I was outside at dusk, uncoiling the hose and fiddling with the water, trying to give my potted plants and flowers a good soaking, since it hadn’t rained for over two weeks. It came on suddenly, and completely unexpectedly--the pain was amazing.
I felt it in my hand first, at the base of my thumb. It was like a small knife was being slowly and cruelly pushed into my hand; instinctively, I used the water hose to dampen the pain that was growing so fiercely. That seemed not to help at all-—time slowed down and every second became like an hour. The pain in my hand grew, I cried out-—dropped the hose-—shook my left hand thinking I had some sort of strange nerve spasm, and maybe the movement would make it stop—but it did not—it seemed to go on and on and on. Then another pain, this time in my lower back, identical to the pain in my hand, but harder to get at--and then, a slight buzzing sound at my ear, and something brushing against the side of my face, and I knew I’d been attacked.
But by what? I couldn’t see anything. There was nothing flying, nothing felt like it was crawling—even though my hand had already begun to swell and was starting to tingle also. What had bitten me? Why did it hurt so much? Was it a spider? Had I disturbed a black-widow nest when I uncoiled the hose from its hanger? I ran to turn off the water, and then ran into the house, into the light, to see what it was that had gotten me. The knife-like pain was increasing by the second. Every movement made it worse. There were two large hot lumps on me now, one at the base of my back near my left hip, and one on my left hand at the bottom of my thumb-joint. My arm hurt—my whole back hurt. I still had no idea what had bitten me, and I was getting worried. What if it was a poisonous spider? There were lots of those outside on that side of the house. I’d seen spiders out there that you could hear walking on the porch boards. Some of them were those muscular “jumping” types—they spun webs but in the ground, and they could leap into the air. Had to be one of those, I thought. But this pain! I’d never felt anything like it!
I examined the lumps-—no stingers visible. So not bees, thank the gods-—I’m allergic. Last time I had a bee sting, it sent me to the hospital and I couldn’t walk for a week. I replayed the whole scene-—hose, water, spray, pain. Hose water spray pain. Hosewaterspraypain. No spiders. No webs. Nothing crawled on me, not that I could feel. Nothing flew at me that I felt. There had been that odd buzzing, but it was short-lived, not humming-—not a bee. Not a mosquito. Lightning bug maybe? Cicada? Not important-—the pain was in my hip and back and my arm now-—all the way to the elbow. It was spreading rapidly. I was swelling rapidly. The lumps had small holes in the middle—one hole. Not spiders, then. They leave “fang” marks usually. Two holes, side-by-side. Usually not very visible, either. These holes were large, and even had a little blood-spot in the center. What the hell had gotten me?
I was worried. This really, really hurt-—unbelievably so. Amazingly so. Hugely. I was swelling more and starting to panic, so I called my friend C__ to come over and check it out for me. She came. We looked, I told her what happened. She suggested we head to the ER before it got worse. “Can you drive?” I asked sheepishly—-I really could not lean my back against anything—-it felt like it was on fire. And my left arm didn’t seem to be working at all! All the way there, I debated whether or not I wanted to even go to the hospital—it was obviously an insect bite of some kind, and who goes to the ER for a bug-bite? I wasn’t allergic to whatever it was, but I also had no antihistamines in the house—I couldn’t even treat this at home. Of course, I could go to the pharmacy, but maybe it was a brown recluse spider? Maybe it had been a snake? Maybe---the possibilities began to panic me and I started to breathe hard, my heart pounded. I’d already been to the ER once this summer—for leg cramps that would not stop. I was dehydrated. I drank more water, and they stopped. While there, however, they told me my glucose readings were too high. All else was normal, the glucose was high. That was worrisome. But forget that for now; what would they do for this poison that was swelling up my arm, making it impossible for me to sit in a chair, still feeling like there were small toxic missiles traveling along my nerves?
Three hours later, I found out. They gave me—antihistamines. And a 3-day supply of steroids, to enhance their effectiveness. And an ice pack. And by the time they did all this helpful stuff, the pain and swelling had subsided to almost nothing.
But they didn’t give me something I was hoping for: the identity of what had stung me. Ah well. I went home, went to bed.
Next day, I examined the area where I had been stung. And there it was: the nest. Ground wasps—yellowjackets. A large hole at the end of the porch, under the squash vine. And the little buggers darting in and out as if nothing had ever happened.
Obviously they hadn’t appreciated being doused with water, even after bedtime when they’re quiet. And it was a lucky thing I had gone out after dark—if I had squirted that nest during the daylight hours, they might have swarmed and stung me to death. I know if I’d gotten many more than two stings I’d have been unable to stand the pain.
I cursed them, and I knew I’d be getting rid of them, but I also thanked the Powers that Be for my luck and good timing. It probably saved me from a longer hospital stay. And now the yellowjackets are gone. It took two cans of the stuff that shoots up to 25 feet away. It also killed my forget-me-nots, and part of the columbine.
But my garden is once again safe, and so am I.
And oh, yeah—the high glucose reading? I also found out I’m diabetic.
Gotcha.
